


No Cure; Just Remedy

by royal_chandler



Category: Twilight RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Imported, LiveJournal, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-30 12:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_chandler/pseuds/royal_chandler
Summary: Taylor takes care of a sick Kristen.





	No Cure; Just Remedy

Kristen feels extremely low but somehow she manages to work up the energy to smile when Taylor comes through her trailer door, big brown paper bag in hand. “You’re like Superman, you know that?”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Taylor says, walks over to the couch after closing the door. “Maybe amazing.”

Kristen rolls her eyes. “The problem here is that I was actually joking and you’re being serious.”

She’s kidding of course because Taylor is kind of like her own personal Superman. He’s sweet like Clark Kent, has a tendency to bumble when nervous but he’s also there when she needs him, can always be counted on to save the day.

Kristen sits back against the armrest, pulls her legs in to make room for Taylor. She wraps her blanket tighter around herself and shivers a little bit, tries to warm up in her new spot.

Taylor frowns. “Are you cold?”

The worry in his voice is evident and that causes something sweet and foreign to light up Kristen’s heart, she shakes her head gently. “I’m fine.” She catches the disbelieving expression on Taylor’s face and amends with, “I’ll be okay.”

Kristen’s not particularly fine actually. She’d woken up earlier that day with a sore throat that had quickly formed into a fit of coughs and nausea. When she’d been able to find five minutes in which a hammer wasn’t knocking in her head, she had texted Nikki, telling her that she wouldn’t be able to make it to the shooting for the day. So Kristen had just lied in bed for the most part of the morning, fatigue weakening her. Only because of Taylor is she awake now. He had come to her trailer earlier to check up on her and had insisted on taking care of her, even volunteered to go out and get her vegetable soup.

“Do you want your comforter?” Taylor asks pulling out the contents in the bag: foam bowl, napkins and a plastic spoon.

“Too hot.”

“Aren’t you supposed to sweat your fever out?”

Kristen swipes a hand across her forehead, makes a face at her palm. “Sweat, man.”

“Point grossly taken,” Taylor replies. He reaches into his jacket pockets, reveals medicine bottles.

Kristen recognizes the ibuprofen and the cough medicine that will undoubtedly taste like toxic shit, hopes to God she’ll be able to distract Taylor from making her take _that_.

“You’re such a fucking smuggler,” Kristen laughs, snorts very unlady-like but ends up choking on it. Her lungs aren't quite able to handle the labor when her immune system is trying to fight off illness.

Taylor hurriedly reaches for the box of tissues, hands one to Kristen. He gives her a stern look, points a finger to her. “No laughing.”

Kristen accepts the tissue, nods. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Sir sandwiches? Really?” Taylor pauses thoughtfully, “Alright, soup first or medicine?”

Kristen answers immediately; her lips slip into a wide grin. “Soup.”

He removes the lid from the bowl and Kristen nearly moans when the scent hits her slightly compromised olfactory sense, the cayenne pepper strong. Words can’t express how much she hates to be sick but it’s almost worth it when she gets to have her favorite kind of soup, hot and spicy. She holds out her hands expectantly. “Hand it over.”

“What? You don’t want me to feed it to you?” Taylor questions sarcastically, keeps it out of her reach.

At some moment in their friendship, she has disclosed her secret love for the soup to Taylor. Apparently, he had stored that away somewhere in his brain for future teasing. Kristen would find it cute if she wasn’t achy and if her bones didn't feel as though they were made out of gummy whatever. As if her muscles can hear her thoughts, another spasm quakes through her body. With clinched teeth, she says, “I would kick your ass, Taylor but since I don’t want to spill the precious soup you happen to have in your possession, I can’t resort to such extreme measures.”

“You? Kick my ass?”

“What? I could do it!”

“Have you forgotten our wrestling match that _I_ won?”

“Have you forgotten that I let you win because there was a camera there and I didn’t want to humiliate you?” Kristen asks with a high eyebrow. Narrowing her eyes speculatively, she adds, “Don’t try to distract me. I’m not an invalid, Taylor. I can work with simple tools.”

He sighs, hands over the bowl and spoon. “I know that but you can't distract me either. You're shivering like Jack Frost.” Quietly, he reminds her to, “Be careful.”

It’s then that Kristen understands his conflict. His concern constantly baffles her. It’s not his fault. Kristen has no doubt he’s sincere and actually _cares_ but she’s not used to being such a priority. Sometimes Taylor just looks as if she deserves the world, like he wants to be the one to give it to her—stand by and watch her enjoy it. She kind of adores it but that doesn't make it any less daunting. It’s frightening how he’s able to undo her and make her think so fucking much. “You’re too good to me.” Too good _for_ her as well.

Taylor just reaches over to her, flips the back of his hand to her forehead and watches as she starts to eat—looks satisfied. “No chance.” It’s soft and sweet but it definitely tells her not to try to argue, he states it like fact.

Kristen’s convinced that he learned Jedi mind tricks along with his martial arts because she should not be loving the feel of his skin on hers. “Um, so no fever?” she manages to stutter out.

Pulling his hand back, Taylor shakes his head with a small smile. “You’re not as hot as you were before so I think that you’re getting better. I kind of wish I had a thermometer though, just to make sure. The corner store was out.”

“Well we are out in Podunk,” Kristen supplies. She spins her spoon in the bowl, watches the whirlpool of green beans and carrots. “It’ll be okay.”

Taylor pats her leg gently, his palm warm through the fabric of the blanket. “If you say it, I believe it.”

The next twenty minutes are spent in silence, the only noise is the wind that wisps against the windows of the trailer and occasional sniffles from Kristen, who keeps her head down toward her food and hides like a nervous cat.

When she finishes, Kristen puts the empty bowl onto the table and stretches a little, unintentionally digs her toes into Taylor’s outer thigh. “Sorry,” she mumbles, quickly brings them out of his personal space.

“S’okay,” Taylor assures her after a beat. “Was it any good?”

“Delicious,” Kristen replies, the ‘s’ holds out longer than she had intended.

They both wince at the lisp that her congested head causes.

Unexpectedly, Taylor makes a move to rise from the couch but somehow, despite her slow motor skills that were stunted by illness, Kristen catches him in time to stop him and wraps her small hand around his strong wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Kristen, I forgot your decongestant. I’ll be right back,” Taylor explains and Kristen swears that a blush pinks his cheeks, starts to make a rose of his nose.

“Dude,” she sneezes, unceremoniously finishes it with a curse. “Taylor, you can’t be serious. You do _not_ have to do that. Sit down.”

“Kristen.”

Her tone is authoritative though raspy and withered. “By sit down, I meant put your ass to the couch now.”

Yeah, she can be a bitch when she really wants to. However, Taylor isn’t put off by the order—at least he’s not scared or intimidated by her slight. He’s sheepish though, sheepish and redder than a minute before.

Taylor cards a hand through his hair before dropping back onto the couch. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

Kristen coughs and makes a face while clearing her throat. “Yeah and you love it. I don’t need decongestant; it’s what tissues are for. It’s not the first time that I’ve been sick, Taylor. I've got some experience with it.”

“I'm sorry that I'm being so annoying. I just hate seeing you like this, hate seeing things bother you,” Taylor confesses, gazes at her with earnest eyes.

Sure that he’s never been more honest, Kristen remarks, “I’m human, Taylor. I get sick and sometimes bad things happen to me. It’s inevitable but most of the time, I've got a handle on it. I love that you care but I’m pretty human.”

Taylor concedes with a small smile. “You make a good point.”

“I make awesome points,” Kristen yawns more than says.

“You tired?” Taylor inquires.

“Yeah,” Kristen tells him sleepily. It’s strange, the effects of the flu and how it can knock a person out at any moment. “Don’t want to move though.” So instead she shifts over to him, her mind fogged with bravery as she settles beside Taylor and loops her arm around his elbow. “Come here.”

When Kristen settles her head onto his shoulder, he rests his cheek against the crown of her's without hesitation. His fingers thread through her hair then move to her blanket, bringing it higher onto her shoulder. He speaks in a hush, “Your hair smells nice, like sugar. Never thought you’d be the type.”

Kirsten closes her eyes and the space remaining between them, doesn’t mind when her knees rest against the side of his stomach. She curves her lips into his clothed arm. “You’re not the only one who can be sweet.”

“You can take the cough medicine when you wake up. Don't think that I forgot about it.”

She answers with a groan and later with soft snores.

**fin**


End file.
